Reckoning
by Spring Haze
Summary: Goren and Eames hash out some differences after a deadly sting. PostEp for Suite Sorrow. Some language.
1. Chapter 1

Reckoning  
  
Disclaimer: LO: CI, Goren, and Eames do not belong to me. They belong, presumably, to NBC and Dick Wolf.   
  
Description: Goren and Eames hash out some differences after a deadly sting. POST-EP for Suite Sorrow  
  
Author notes: This is my first fic ever for any 'fandom'. I have no idea what I'm doing. That said I just wanted to communicate my intention. The fundamental difference between Eames and Goren I think is often misinterpreted to be that Goren is an 'intellectual' and Eames not. I actually think the difference is that Eames has shed the 'girly' character trait of empathy, and Goren has it in spades. Thus their different interpretations of the same events. For Eames, as a woman who is a cop, this allows her to do her job. For Goren, empathy makes his insights possible, although there are consequences to it. So I wanted them to work that out. It's angst-ridden, because that's fun to write, I think. Plus I threw in just a little bit of G/E unresolved sexual tension stuff because I get a kick out of it. But that isn't what the story is about.   
  
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Chapter 1.  
  
She finds him alone at the bar by the office. He is drinking Jack and water, staring down at the table. His nervous ticks are noticeable across the room. Wildly running his hand across his face, his head is twitching every direction.   
  
She walks over and slides into the booth across from him. He doesn't look up. .  
  
"I fucked up. I…" Goren's facial muscles twitch with rage.  
  
Alex says nothing. She slides her hands forward across the table, reaching for the hand he has tightly wrapped around his glass. But she stops half way and merely folds her hands together, her arms extended.  
  
"You did what you thought would work." She offers this lamely, knowing he doesn't really hear her. Knowing it doesn't matter what she says.  
  
"I should have known. No… I KNEW, DAMMIT!" His fist comes down on the table. Alex anticipated it, but the impact makes her jump slightly anyway.  
  
She has nothing to say. She isn't even sure anymore why she came to find him. Did she think he would be comforted by her presence?   
  
No, she knew he would be oblivious. Maybe she came to save his pride. When he drank, which was rare, he drank with purpose. And he was not a pleasant drunk. He would be shamefaced later, since this was a bar frequented by many of their colleagues.  
  
Or maybe she came there to make herself feel like she mattered.  
  
"Goren." She sighs deeply.  
  
He finally looks at her.   
  
"Go home. Just go." He says this coldly.  
  
She is getting angry at him. Angry at his self-absorption. He gets all the credit for all the solves, all the success. And he takes the blame for every rare failure.  
  
Like she wasn't there. Like she, and Deakins, and Carver, weren't in on the plan from the get go.   
  
"Listen to me. I hooked the damn mic to her, Bobby. Carver approved. Stop playing the martyr."  
  
Goren rolls the ice cubes in his glass and slams the remainder of his drink like a shot. He waves a server over to the table and orders another Jack and water. Then he orders a gin and tonic.  
  
"Fine. You want to be in this with me? Then you need to catch up." This is not a friendly invitation to imbibe. He is seething.  
  
When the drink arrives he slides it violently across the table at her. The contents slosh out of the glass and wet the surface.   
  
Alex has no intention of drinking it.  
  
"What would you have me do? Help you with your self-flagellation? I'm not here to beat you up."  
  
"What then, Eames? Are you here to lick my wounds?"  
  
She feels her stomach drop. She hates him. Hate this. Hates feeling wholly inadequate, like she can't compete with his pain.  
  
But she doesn't find herself walking out. Instead she picks up the drink he ordered for her and sucks it down.  
  
"I don't know. I don't know why I'm here." 


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2  
  
Four gin and tonics later, and they've hardly exchanged 10 words.  
  
She realizes that she is now heavily buzzed.  
  
Suddenly, he stands up. "I'm going. You coming?"  
  
Not sure if this is an offer of peace or an invitation to more trouble, she stands too. She sees some co-workers at a table not too far away. They are staring and talking. By now everyone knows what happened today, and now they get to see the results.  
  
Goren walks with his long strides to the door and Alex follows behind, a little unsteady on her high-heeled boots. They exit the bar to 20 degree winter darkness. The cold air feels refreshing on her flushed face.  
  
She clicks along next to him, not sure where he is headed. He seems to have a destination in mind. When he hails a cab, she still doesn't ask where they are going. She doesn't hear what he says to the driver.  
  
So, she just stares out the window at the other cars on the road, until she feels his eyes on her. She looks over at him, and he maintains his gaze. She wants to say something flippant to him about finally noticing she was there, but the look in his eyes stops her.  
  
Silence.   
  
He puts a hand out, slowly, and touches her cheek. It feels exploratory, as if he is trying to see what she is made of.  
  
"You think you can save me." He says it like it's a challenge.  
  
"I think I can stop you from making a fool of yourself. There's a difference."  
  
"You're coming home with me." Not a demand. A statement of fact.  
  
So that's where they were going. "Apparently."  
  
When they arrive at his building, they walk up to the door and he has his keys out. But instead of opening the door, he turns to her. He is close to her, towering over her deliberately. He is trying to test her, make her turn around and go home. He leans in toward her small frame and pushes her up against the brick of the building without even touching her. By sheer will.  
  
She doesn't know what to make of this behavior, but she is not intimidated. She looks him in the eye. They hold each others gaze for a long, long moment.  
  
She sees his anger still there, but she sees desperateness too. And he thinks she is the antidote.   
  
"You think I can save you." She says this softly, surprised.  
  
"Can you?" His voice is a low rumble.  
  
"No."  
  
He leans in and puts his face right up to hers, so they're not quite touching. "Try anyway"   
  
Her heart is racing a mile a minute. She holds her head perfectly still and snakes her arm around his torso to find his hand. She takes his keys.  
  
"Move," she orders, in the same voice she uses with the most belligerent suspect. 


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3  
  
Goren's apartment is cold, like he keeps the heat off except when he is home. When they enter, Goren goes directly to the bathroom, and Alex goes to the kitchen. She finds the biggest glasses he has and fills them with water.   
  
When he emerges, she hands him one.   
  
"Consider it my attempt to live up to my newly-acquired white-knight status. This'll save you from a wicked headache in the morning."  
  
He shakes his head a little and heads for the couch.  
  
She sits down in the armchair and unzips her boots so she can curl up her legs. "What do you want from me?"  
  
Goren looks out the window at the lights on the street. "Nothing."  
  
He seems so weary, that Alex decides to cut to the chase. "What happened today- it wasn't about you. It's not always about you."  
  
"And what do you think it was about?"  
  
"The betrayal and manipulation of a disturbed and immature young woman. Julie Turner's reaction to her father was a result of that. Not a result of you underestimating her. Really, it wasn't even a product of the sting at all. She would have found out about her father and her fiancé eventually, and her reaction would have been the same whether we set up the confrontation or not."  
  
"Why is it that you are able to reduce the most complex and intricate human interactions into unambiguous morality plays?"   
  
She shakes her head in disbelief. "I'm not so stupid that I don't know when I'm being condescended to. And this is coming from a man who has decided reduce the same events into a moral condemnation of himself."   
  
Goren looks up at her, his eyes wide. "Wait Eames, I…"  
  
She cuts him off, now openly angry. "Perhaps my sense of right and wrong has hardened me to the emotional aspects of this work, but it takes a real narcissist to consider yourself to be the beginning and the end of everything that happens the moment you arrive on the scene."  
  
Her words hang in the air while he sits with his mouth slightly open. She realizes she is clenching her fists and makes a conscious effort to relax her fingers.   
  
After all of the crap she puts up with, after willingly playing second fiddle to him for several years now, he has the balls to imply she is simple and cold-hearted.   
  
"Don't you get it? Don't you understand that knowing who the bad guys are is the only thing that makes this job possible for me? If I walked around like you do, getting emotionally involved in every messy life I see, people would write me off as just another woman. Too emotional to do the job right. I would be run off the force and sent to social work school. It's a luxury in which I can't afford to indulge."  
  
Goren stands suddenly, his face contorted in frustration. He stammers as he searches for the words he wants. "I didn't mean… I'm not trying to attack your worldview. I know… A long time ago I understood what that was all about."  
  
Alex stands up to lessen the impact of his height advantage just a little. "Oh, I shoulda known. The brilliant detective who has cracked open the heads of a thousand criminal masterminds would have no trouble getting a grasp on a facile girl like me."  
  
"God damn it, Eames. How can you say those things?"   
  
He moves forward and grasps one of her shoulders firmly with his hand. His voice is urgent. "Don't you think that I respect you as a cop or value what our partnership has done for my work?"  
  
"I think you're well aware of it. Because it's *your* work."  
  
"You need to hear me on this, Eames. I might be self-centered and arrogant. I might get frustrated with your black-and-white ethics. But that's why I need you. You've been my moral compass more times than I can count. You keep me from taking my empathy too far. But, you understand that it's what allows me to do what I do. Not everyone gets it. You do. You're really the only one who does. "  
  
"And what have you done for me?" She knows she is being unfair now. His little speech was exactly right in sentiment and tone, but she is stubborn.  
  
With that, he looks resigned. He pulls her into his body and wraps his arms around her. He just stands and holds her.   
  
She is taken aback, but Alex does not return the embrace. She is too angry and cannot swallow her pride.  
  
But she can't help but take pleasure from the way the thin material of his shirt feels against her face. His breath tickles her hair as he presses his mouth to the top of her head. He is squeezing her tighter as the seconds pass.   
  
One cannot be embraced by a warm friend for too long and not be warmed oneself.   
  
She reaches her arms around him and holds him. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."  
  
She takes a deep breath and draws in his musky scent. "I know what you've done for me. You remind to be human."   
  
He pulls away a little, so he can look at her.   
  
He says simply, "I'm drunk."  
  
Alex laughs a little. "Me too."  
  
Goren doesn't smile. His voice cracks as he says "I'm glad you found me tonight."  
  
Alex is feeling suddenly, and unusually, shy. "I couldn't take the chance that you'd tear up the bar, not with the guys from Fraud there to watch."  
  
"You'll stay the night?"  
  
"Will you take me home in the morning before work so I can change?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
"Fine. But no funny stuff." She smiles again to lighten the moment.   
  
Goren has never looked more serious. "I never intend to be funny."  
  
She can't help but roll her eyes. "I know. Go get ready for bed now, Bobby. You're drunk, remember?"  
  
He drops his arms from her and scratches the back of his head. "Yeah."  
  
Alex waits until he is out of the room, then she drops to the couch and puts her spinning head in her hands. Exhaustion and relief overwhelm her.  
  
It's too much to grapple with at this late hour, with so much gin in her system.  
  
But somewhere in the back of her mind, she knows that this evening, tumultuous as it was, is a turning point for them. They both finally said what needed to be said.  
  
And what is a partnership but a reckoning of differences? 


End file.
